Anna Chinn's blog

The dismantling of a home continues. A website where you can
list stuff you are giving away has made it easy for me to
dispel plenty without even leaving the wadding of my futon,
on which I am now sleeping having given away the bed.

The green expanse of the Edgar Centre floor is an artificial
turf, meant to stimulate, somewhere in the brain, memories of
lawn. Lawn, in real life so often spring-loaded with
daffodils. Therefore it was apt to hold the World Daffodil
Convention at this vast nylon-scented indoor sports venue.

In the incessant rain, my favourite 75-year-old came to
visit. I think of her as my spiritual grandmother. A child of
the Great Depression, she knows the dying arts of frugality
such as preserving, baking, knitting, sewing and other forms
of stitching. A helpless child of the roaring 1980s, I dabble
in some of those arts by reading how-to pages online
sometimes.